


forget-me-not.

by cloudburst



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She looked beautiful, like she belonged there—at his dinner table, with her dark eyes glinting in the light of the candle he'd set in the center - gazing at him with a fond expression, the corners of her lips turning up into a small smile. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>He almost forgot he was all bone.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	forget-me-not.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what I'm doing with my life but maybe someone should stop me.
> 
> Also, if you're easily upset by mentions of sickness, and the side effects, etc, please refrain from reading this. Nothing is in detail—it isn't much at all, but I would just really hate to be the reason you upset yourself, y'know? 
> 
> I hope you're having a nice day/night/life.

He was not weak. 

Weakness is abstract—a concept made up and composed by the human mind in order to compensate for failure. 

_You failed, because you are weak._

But he was not weak - despite what others may have said about him.

_No._

_He was strong._

_Despite everything._

He loved to watch her fight - blue eyes the size of saucers, flitting across the school gymnasium, locking onto every movement. 

She was strong, with her silky black hair and dark eyes—body that drew you in, made you want her in every way she'd have you. 

Watching _her_ made him feel empowered - clutching a book to his chest, shifting on his feet as he stood, back to the cinderblock wall. 

He was the sick kid.

Not enough to be gone.

Not well enough to participate in the physical activity.

He just _was._

He stood by the door. 

She walked by him—stopping a moment - his hand lifting up to be waved. 

'Bye, Armin. See you tomorrow.'

His voice was rough - cracking - as a teenage boy's voice should, when he responded, face bright red, with eyes sparkling. 'Bye, Mikasa!'

His smile was far too bright, she thought—she knew. It would burn out far too early.

* * *

Sophomore year, he watched as she sparred with her brother—Eren Jaeger, the one who treated him as an equal - didn't acknowledge that he was frail.

Acted as if the unspoken _'I am dying, Eren,'_ didn't exist. 

He saw her eyes glittering with determination, joy, and apprehension as she swung her leg up - his eyes tracking her every movement—long leg making contact with Eren's ribs. 

They continued.

Mikasa won, and Eren smiled like he had. 

These were his friends.

They were not _weak._

And as they greeted him, he began to believe—that neither was he.

* * *

Their punches hurt him. 

But the words hurt more. 

They told him to die already.

He didn't want to.

They came to his aid—and he saw it then - dark grey eyes flashing dangerously as her fist came to the antagonist's skull, a tanned arm extending, pulling him to his feet.

His blue eyes brimmed with tears that wouldn't fall.

_He loved them._

_She was special._

* * *

It was beautiful outside—sunny Virginia weather.

Backs pressing into the grass, they stared to the bright blue sky—Eren commenting that it was nearly as blue as Armin's eyes. 

He smiled, then, as Eren rolled onto his side, propping his head up on an elbow. 'So...'

'Yeah, Eren?'

'Does the amazing Armin Arlert have his eye on anyone special?'

Armin laughed—a sound like christmas bells. 

'I can't say Eren.' He paused - rolling onto his stomach to look at him. 'What about you?'

'If I tell you, you have to tell me. Deal?'

The blond boy nodded. 

It was hot—too hot. 

He was sick—too sick.

But he nodded.

'I kissed Levi yesterday. The junior boy. And he's my boyfriend now. Don't tell Mikasa, though.'

'I'm in love with Mikasa, Eren.'

Eren laughed—a sound that Armin never got tired of.

He didn't think he'd have the chance to tire of it. 

'Yeah Armin.' A tan hand came to rest atop his head. 'I know.'

* * *

His hands were shaking like crackling leaves in a fire, palms sweaty—heart beating more quickly than it ever had before, a metronome with no pace. 

'Armin?'

She looked beautiful, like she belonged there—at his dinner table, with her dark eyes glinting in the light of the candle he'd set in the center - gazing at him with a fond expression, the corners of her lips turning up into a small smile. 

He almost forgot he was all bone.

_almost._

'Mikasa, I-'

He choked on his words - burning his tongue, laced with venom. 

He would speak—he would. Eren believed in him - had told him it would all turn out alright, with Mikasa in her sparkling black dress with the swooping V-neck. 

She still smiled at him, and he felt _strong,_ then. 

Weakness was abstract, he reminded himself. 

Grey eyes like darkened, shining steel stared back at him. 

It was strength.

'I-I,' spluttering. _shit._ 'I like you a lot.'

Silence met him. She had not moved to get up, however—smile widening along with her eyes, more beautiful than any flower that blossomed in the spring time. 

Armin knew it was no contest. She would always be the most dazzling thing reflected in bright blue eyes the color of the ocean, and the turquoise that Mikasa wore around her neck—that now hung between her bare collarbones as Armin though of what to say next, with his shaking voice and rapid filling lungs. 

'Mikasa Ackerman. Will you be my girlfriend?'

She smiled, then. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

* * *

He wasn't weak when she kissed him for the first time in the school gymnasium, sophomore year—her muscular arms wrapping around his thin, _thin_ neck. 

—wasn't weak when she smiled against his lips, the other kids gaping as Eren just grinned, a pale arm slipping around his waist.

'I'm happy for them,' he'd said.

'I'm happy for them as well.'

But the boy with bright blue eyes was the epitome of joy, there in that moment.

_He felt powerful._

_All that mattered was her._

_She was all that mattered, then._

* * *

Junior year—consisting of his two friends and a beat up truck that would take them where they'd needed to go. 

—comprised of long nights at the drive-in, Eren leaving early to spend time with Levi—Armin staying, eventually making slow love to Mikasa on the back bed.

He was not her first, but he was by far her favorite. 

That year was made up of feelings.

_Not weakness._

_It was love, then._

When his small arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close—dark hair cascading off of his shoulder, he spoke. 'I love you, Mikasa.'

Small kisses into his pulse, lips dragging along the cotton atop his shoulder. 'And I love you.' 

But she knew he was pale. Far too pale. 

It wasn't acknowledged. 

He was getting treatment. 

_It would be okay._

Armin could feel Mikasa's grip on him tighten. 

Guilt.

* * *

It was cloudy as she stepped into the field—the one she'd once played in with Eren. 

Small blue flowers dotted the ground beneath her feet, a sharp contrast to the bared soil that had been turned up by rain. 

She bent over, picking one between her fingers. 

They were forget-me-nots.

* * *

It was a cold night—Armin sat before her in a brown t-shirt the chestnut shade of Eren's hair, her fingers threading through Armin's blond strands that he had neglected to trim - twirling them, twisting pale blue flowers into the small braids. 

'Forget-me-nots, Mikasa?' His voice was small—far too small.

She hated it. He deserved to be happy.

'Yeah, Armin.' Her soft lips met his chapped ones, and it made her stomach turn. 'Forget-me-nots. They suit you.'

Armin smiled, then.

Mikasa did not.

* * *

He'd been painting—streaks of blue a stark contrast to his pale skin, flecks of color across his body.

— it hurt.

He couldn't finish.

But he did.

* * *

She got the call during a school day of their senior year. 

She scribbled a blue flower onto her hand—clear tears leaking from dark eyes.

* * *

The funeral was short. It was all short. 

It was like Armin's life. 

It was unlike the love she'd had for him.

It would go on.

* * *

She looked to the painting hung against her wall. 

In the corner, signed: _'I love you, Mikasa. Remember me fondly. -Armin Arlert'_

It was a forget-me-not. 

She wouldn't.

* * *

_'In the end, he was strong.'_

_'Yeah, Eren. I know.'_

_She smiled._

* * *

~  
"Pessimism leads to weakness, optimism to power."


End file.
